


10 Million Dollar Bounty

by Marvelfan_fanatic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Avengers Compound, Betaed, F/M, Government Agencies, Hurt Peter Parker, Mental Health Issues, On the Run, Other, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Precious Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21562147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelfan_fanatic/pseuds/Marvelfan_fanatic
Summary: Peter Parker is on the run from the government but there’s also a little few surprises on the way to proving his innocence.I’ll add to this as I go along. Don’t wanna spoil anything.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic I hope you enjoy it.  
> Feedback and suggestions are welcomed.

It’s been 3 months now that I’ve been on the run. I’ve got a lot of things keeping me going: Aunt May MJ, Ned and Happy. Things aren’t that great but they’re going to get better. They have to. It can’t always be this bad, I know it gets better. It’s like when my parents died and when Uncle Ben got killed, the incandescence overtook the dull, disintegrating, lifeless feeling. It taught me that things will always become better than they are now, and it always has.

And right now, I _need_ things to take a turn for the better because I don’t how much more I can take with Mr. Stark gone now too. I need him and he’s not here because he’s a self-sacrificing idiot (those are not my words they’re Mrs. Starks).

I get it he had to save the world but now the worlds saved...

_What about us?_ What about all the people he left behind? Cause I can’t do this anymore, all by myself left alone in the darkness. The misery that pains every nerve in my body, the melancholiness that courses through every vein, every thought and action haunted with my failure.

If Mr. Stark was still here I wouldn’t be on the run. My battle with Mysterio may never have happened and even if it did, it would have never taken so long to defeat him because Mr. Stark knows what he was doing. He was not naive and guileless like me. Neither was he always looking for someone else to burden with the responsibility of saving the world.

Because he had the hero’s play, _not me._

He was right, he always was I wasn’t ready to be an avenger, not even right now. I’m just the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. I’m Peter Parker and I should be in school right now with my friends for senior year. None of this was supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to get framed for murder, but I did.

It hasn’t been all that bad being on the run. Happy drops by whenever he can – always unusual times so that no one suspects where he’s going, who he’s visiting and so there’s no pattern to detect in his visits.

I’ve also got Arisa, she’s awesome. It’s no wonder she worked for Mr. Stark and that she was his and the avengers most trusted personnel. Anyways, she’s here to make sure that I get everything I need and that no one can find me no matter how indefatigably they strive. She erases all traces that may prove I was at a certain place which could then potentially give away my location. Which I believe is very necessary – especially when there’s a ten-million-dollar bounty on your head.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can’t really summarise and I don’t wanna end up spoiling any of it, so it’s really just a direct continuation from the first.

Who put the bounty on my head? I don’t know. Why? Again, I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Whatever it takes because I bet you whoever put this bounty on my head is the one who released the footage of Mysterio, revealing my identity and pinning the blame on me for everything that happened in Europe. So no matter what it takes I’m going to prove my innocence and find out who wants me.

And it starts with finding the location of Crade Rumlow.

The problem is this guy is a ghost. A current living location - _Nope_ , Current relations - _Nothing.._ Current occupation, age, birth date or place. _Nada, nada, nada._ There’s nothing nothing on him and he’s damn good at covering his tracks. 

That would be a problem for the NYPD, the FBI or the CIA but not for me. Not when I have Mr. Starks tech and equipment and shields agents at my dispense. I’ve been searching for two days now, sending Spidey drones, having shield agent surveillance around Canada and Toronto. I’ve finally got him pinned for a pick up at 7:30 pm tomorrow at the wards island ferry docks. 

_**(Tuesday, 28 September, 7:24 pm)** _

In my stealth suit, I sat perched on one of the subsumed smaller yachts hidden by the tall stature of the cruise ships, using my enhanced vision and Karen of course to get a scan of the docks. We didn’t detect anything, no heat signals, no traces of human life. That’s when I knew something was up and my fears were confirmed when I heard the deafening shrill ringing of blasting bullets. Guns blazing setting half the boats on the marina ablaze.

I swung into action but the blinding glare of the fire, the copious heat circling me and the flagrant noise of cascading bullets ripping through the air, sent my Spidey senses in overdrive. It was too hard to concentrate or to pinpoint where exactly the bullets were coming from. I tried but my mind was tumbling and rolling around on a feather bed, too busy trying to find a note of peace amidst the chaos and then it no longer needed to because everything went black...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot that big ass hint I dropped in there?
> 
> Feedback and Kudos are appreciated. 💙


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently my hint wasn’t as big as I thought?  
> Sorry for not having post in so long but hopefully I will be posting chapters more regularly.  
> I hope you enjoy.

I had been conscious for brief moments, trying to acknowledge my surroundings through blurred vision and a bellowing ringing in my ears. My eyes wafting open at my own slightest movement from the prodigious pain and unknown fear lurking beside my feeble: defenceless, vulnerable and at the most part unconscious body. And then mere moments later, I was once again plunged into a state of deep but restless sleep.

I had once more awoken from my short intervals between the states of conscious and unconsciousness. Trying to hold on to the incandescence glowing brightly, illuminating the end of the tunnel and not yet again fall back into the engulfing ambiguity caving itself around me. Rocks were piling, hiding any shadow of light and leaving me coveted in darkness.

I prevailed, holding on to the brightness till I was fully sheathed in its basking warmth and almost blinding glare. My eyes fluttered open not used to the light, when I heard the clamour of rusted hinges creaking, echoing off the dull sonorous metal walls. They were followed by a series of heavy footsteps and the maniac laughing of a man who was easily 5’11. He was of a broad hunching figure and had dark brown tresses falling over the tips of his ears.

It took a while in my befuddled state to realise just exactly who he was. I could sense the danger and psychotic nature of the man in front me rolling off in large worrisome waves. Yet, my spider sense still chose to continue to hide away as though if it was afraid of the danger I was about to face.

He was my one and only tail. _Crade Rumlow_.

It was like a switch flicked on in the cluster of unfinished thoughts that was my brain - my eyes flew wide open; I shook my head to remove any blurred vision and displaced thoughts and my slender yet sturdy figure visibly tensed. He noticed this reaction and the narrow ends of his lips twitched slightly.

I hadn’t even a moment of being resolutely sound of mind when his hefty knuckles collided with my jawbone, sending my head reeling back with such force it had caused whiplash. And yet again before I could even bring my head forwards his fist smashed into my nose. My vision started to wander off on me, coming back at slight moments where I could see blood trailing down my chin dripping on to the thin, poorly stitched grey t-shirt I was wearing. His well-aimed, domineering, almost military trained attacks continued, I was his punching bag after a very terrible day. I was thankful that the chair I was chained to was screwed into the ground for his persistent and forceful attacks would have sent me. The chair that I was banded to hurling to the ground sending surges of pain to the already pain infiltrated nerves and perhaps rendering me unconscious, while he continued his onslaught of attacks to my incapable defenceless form.

I didn’t understand his need to cause me pain, the expression that sought freedom from his inner conflict of his upbringing and training that taught him the rule of keeping void of expression- neutral in other words against his true nature. The psychotic inebriation that brimmed almost overflowing in every nerve of his body. It had lifted his pursed lips into a joyous smile that reached his eyes, anyone could see he was truly lost in the pleasure of torturing me.

There was no possible way that I could formulate a plan to escape or carry out the physically straining tasks that would allow me the chance to escape in this wayward state. There was also the certainty that this wouldn’t be the only torture session I would receive from this despicable man. I was starting to lose more faith in this righteous path for heroes when all we endured was pain and loss to see others happy. When are we going to be happy?

I was almost falling back into unconsciousness when my enhanced hearing picked up on the several sounds of whirring. The sound reminded me of the test trialling and building of the iron marks in Mr. Stark’s lab, it was a happy memory in the darkest of times. I liked that I was imagining the iron soldiers bursting in coming to save the day, the repulses blasting the enemy into a projected worried condiment, the iron face alone threatening them, unwanted fear clawing itself into their hearts. It was a wanted moment something for his wish list - a paper filled with dreams that may never be achieved but it was good. It gave me something to hold onto, a reason to have a little hope and so off away in dreamland I went.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to anyone who's been waiting for the next chapter its been like a whole 8 months. i normally write my chapters on the bus on the way home from school but because of corona i hadn't been going to school and had pretty much forgotten about this fic and i had remembered it again once i started school again in september and pretty much wrote what i wanted for it but i was unsure on how to continue if i should make this chapter longer including my next idea or not so this chapter has just been sitting collecting dust for the last two and a half months and i know i've promised it before and couldn't fulfil it but i'm gonna promise it again and hopefully i will update more regularly

The pounding and the deafening clatter were the first thing to attack my senses, bringing the need to awaken me to something more serene, more quiet, more peaceful. I saw opening my eyes as the only fitting way to escape the battle raging on in my head; the moment my eyelids flickered open and my eyeballs rolled forward from the back of my head was when I realised I had made the biggest mistake. White light was glaring at me, wishing me blind. As the unease started to fade away, the heavy stench of chemicals invaded my nostrils. The unpleasant scent of the toxins caused me to drift off for some time until the sound of machines beeping grew louder near me, forcing my eyes to widen. I heard two voices. I strained my ears in the hope to grasp a more secure feeling of my surroundings.

“..uce... he’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, he’s suffered a mild concussion, so he’ll be tired and sore from the beating he took,” he let out with a short bitter chuckle. “But he’ll be fine thanks to his super spider healing factor.”

I soon realised the voices were familiar and safe. An almost homely feeling enveloped me even though I couldn’t place a hand on exactly who they belonged to.

“God, the kid’s an internationally proclaimed rogue and now he’s here black and blue at the hands of H.Y.D.R.A. And I don’t even know what’s going on?”

Wait. Wait. Who’s H.Y.D.R.A? Or What is H.Y.D.R.A? And is that Mr. Rhodey and Mr. Bruce? It is, isn’t it? Shit, so that must mean I’m in the avengers compound. God I’m in so much trouble,

“You know Tony wanted me to look after him, he said ‘he’ll listen to you, he’s not like me you’ll have a much easier time getting him to do what he needs to he’ll be better than me, hell he’ll be better than all of us, I know it, kids got a good heart’ and so I promised to him that I would. I promised to myself that I would and by the looks of it I’ve been doing a very shitty job of it so far.’’

The silence that followed was heart wrenching - as if someone was plucking at the veins attached -one by one. He knew this silence. Hated this silence. Cursed it.

They were remembering Mr. Stark and how even though everything seemed like it was falling apart, hanging on their last seams he managed to rein it all in. Maybe it was the confidence he exuded or his genius, he just always seemed to know what needed to be done, never really sure of how it was to end.

No longer being able to tolerate it, the pain it brought to the already aching hole in my heart, I decided to break the silence. Choosing this moment to aware them of my conscious state as I cleared my throat which I took note was another mistake as nor did it do the job but also brought on an immense burn that created an encore of coughing fits that which then eluded them to my presence.

“Hey kid, it’s okay, just sit back, you’re okay,” and I did as he said with relief and comfort of the feeling of being back home. The safety and security of being with people who can protect me, being able to not have to constantly look over my shoulder. 

I was snapped out of my reverie, with “kid, what the hell has been going on?” The exhaustion and worry that held his shoulders in a tense posture drowning every syllable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, would u please comment if u would like me to write the next chapter as peters pov of far from home or continue with the flow of the fic, thanks.😊


End file.
